And earlier in the day, before we all met at the bowling alley, I sent a text to one of the bowlers asking if he wanted to make a lil’ wager.
I was kidding, really, but he asked what kind, and without thinking, I texted back that we should bet our immortal souls. Whoever won would get the the other’s soul.
It was good for a laugh but sometimes I forget that not everyone appreciates such irreverent (some would call it blasphemy) humor, and when we finally did meet at the bowling alley, Mr. DJ tried to change the bet to lunch-for-a-week, whoever lost had to buy the winner lunch for a week, but by that point, I was pretty committed to possessing someone else’s soul, so we bowled and I won, both games.
I won’t tell you the score because it wasn’t high, but I happened to be bowling with people who didn’t bowl much growing up. I grew up in southwest Missouri and if you didn’t roller-skate, all that was left to you — beyond the sinful and illegal things — was bowling. So I bowled, with my church youth group, with my father when he came home for a visit, with friends from school.
I once bowled a 186, but not last night. Still, my score was good enough to win my friend’s soul. He seemed a little nervous about what I would do with it, so I told him I would only keep it for a week, and in that time I would dump all my sins onto it so that I could walk around sin-free for seven whole days — my longest sin-free time ever unless you count my infancy and I don’t. (Members of my tribe don’t buy into original sin, so when a baby is born, she comes into the world spotless. The spotting happens later.)
I don’t know what you to kill time last time; I went Bowling For Souls. But beyond transferring my sins onto my auxiliary soul, I’m not sure what else to do with it. I don’t really want to do that, anyway, because his soul never did a mean thing to me, not once. If you have any suggestions for my use of the spare soul, I’ll take them.